Horse and Ruth - Sex Stories

Horse and Ruth

... with Ruth, make your move. God knows she can’t. Don’t let her stay with that sick old pervert.” This seems harsh, to me. “He’s gay, for sure,” I say, “Don’t know if that’s makes him a-“ “Is that what you think? Ruth hasn’t told you?” She frowns at me. “Horse, it isn’t men or women he likes. Innocence is his thing. Children. Why do you think I’ve stayed at the orphanage? We know what he’s like.” She marches off, then, fists clenched. “Make a move!” she shouts. Then I remember what got me the job, and I feel sick. # With the excuse of lighting the fire in the Rev’s study, I sneak in and I find Ruth sitting opposite his great oak desk, head drooped and palms flat on her thighs. She is wearing the dress I left for her, the one from earlier. It’s still a little wet at the hem and this is like a happy memory. The Rev is standing over her, he ignores me as I fiddle with the grate. “I am disappointed in you Ruth. I thought you had left your perversions behind. Horse!” he says and I fair near jump out my skin. “You know there is a blessed sacrament of my own devising. Part communion. Part exorcism.” He fiddles with a few of the many buttons running down his cassock. The ones at his hips. “Ruth, prepare to receive the Holy Seed.” Ruth slips from the chair onto her knees. “Horse, get us more wood for the fire, would you?” I stand up and I got my fists ready, but Ruth catches my eye and shakes her head, no more than a twitch. So I do as I’m told. Out on the terrace, I chop the withered ...

... old stump I pulled out the ground. Eyes locked with the rev, timing my strokes to the nod of Ruth’s head and then to her husband’s cries. # I spend near all night in the bath trying to scrub the sight from me, but I just can’t get clean of it. I don’t even bake, so at breakfast, I got no excuse to visit Ruth but I am staring at the horizon willing the sun to come up anyway. The first minute of morning, I head to the big house. The Reverend catches me before I get there. “Ah, Horse. Glad I caught you.” Like we were at a coffee morning. “I need your help. Or rather we do. Ruth and I. It’s a delicate matter. About last night.” I was expecting a ‘keep your mouth shut’. This is what I got: “Thing is, young man. I can only do so much with my blessed sacrament. And it’s clearly having no effect; the girl is still possessed with this lustful, twisted, demon. This love of women. I need a man’s help.” He pats my chest, “She needs a man’s help. I am charging you with her conversion. I need you to violate her. Hard.” He slaps his bony fist into his palm. “And keep violating her. No matter how much she cries stop. This is the demon talking. You keep digging. Deep into her soul. You never stop. Until-“ he licks spittle from his lip-“ Until she tells you not to stop. When she begs you not to stop. You do so immediately, is that clear? Then, and only then, is she… corrected.” I stare. And I stare again. Then it hits me. It’s a tough job, but sometimes you just got to pull up the rotten old ...